


look both ways before you cross my mind.

by propeller



Series: everything that i know about you. [5]
Category: Dolan Twins - Fandom, Grethan - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: 4OU tour, Comfort, Comfort Fluff, First Kiss, Kissing, M/M, can be taken either platonically or romantically, grethan fluff, it's not too explicit or anything so, not my fault that theyre so twincesty, short fic, they're 15-16
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 09:41:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21159578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/propeller/pseuds/propeller
Summary: They kiss. At first, it’s for fun, even when it’s not. They laugh about it - but they still do it whenever they get the chance, willfully letting it slide into a more serious territory: a quick kiss on the top of the head; messy hair tickling a nose; maybe even an affectionate smooch on a blushy cheek.(really soft, & set during the 4oU tour)





	look both ways before you cross my mind.

* * *

They touch. Always. A hand sneaking around the other’s neck, fingers trailing against collar and skin. They shiver against each other, wrists on ribs, arms entangled, pulses fluttering, bodies so close - that they can feel each other’s warmth seeping through their clothes and the non-existent air between them. Sometimes they’ve got the flimsy excuse of being on stage and sharing a comedy skit; silhouettes melting into one single entity, as the show nears its end. Sometimes they sit too close, without even noticing. Their bodies always angle toward one another, like flowers seeking their own private sun. They sprawl on couches, chairs and beds - thighs warm and solid against each other, and hair fluffy where it was ruffled affectionately earlier. Sometimes they get weird looks but, _how could they stop?_

They laugh. All the time. Eyes crinkling and mouths open wide; teeth flashing as they struggle to regain their composure after another cryptic joke that only they understand. Most of the time, it’s not even a joke, but a word; a glance; a single inflexion is enough to make them bite back sudden bursts of laughter. To be fair, when this happens - they don’t even try to curb it, to the everlasting confusion of friends all across the globe (they try to feel bad about it, but it’s _exhilarating_, to make each other laugh like no one else can). They laugh on stage too, making their fans smile curiously. Teasing each other so overtly, that it’s more like shameless flirting, really. Sometimes it’s softer, a chuckle around a yawn, as they try to overcome jetlag, or a warm smile across the room that makes their heart stutter whenever their eyes meet. Some nights, their cheeks hurt from grinning so wide all day, but they both think it's more than worth it.

They fight. Perhaps a bit too much - whether it be over something completely irrelevant, or something entirely overwhelming that neither of them can deal with, sensibly. They swear at each other, shoving, grabbing fistfuls of hair as a last resort sometimes, maybe even the slamming of doors. Fits of anger overtake them, and they have no one to take it out on, except for at each other. Yet, they always crawl back into the same bed, despite angrily vowing to never talk to each other again. They'll make up excuses, saying that there's a creaky bed in the other room - or even strange noises coming from outside the window. After all, they are in a foreign country, and on tour. Anything could happen, and they don't want to risk it, _right? _Sighs of contentment are audible whenever one joins the other on a made-for-two bed; and they promise each other to never argue again. (_A promise that never lasts more than a few days, but it's the thought that counts.)_

They stare. They’ve been told they do that too much, but any remaining sense of propriety flies out of the window when they’re together. They stare, and they _cannot_ help it. At parties, during interviews, whilst recording, on the tour stage _(especially on stage)_. Their gazes lock by chance, then not by chance at all, and it’s like the world around them disappears - in a blur of colours, and noise, until there’s only the two of them left; from across the tour stage, or even whether they're cramped together in a hotel bed, trying to fall asleep - forehead against forehead, mouths parted, as they reassure themselves that _it's not weird_. They can read each other like an open book, hazel irises into hazel irises, noticing every subtle detail. The mischievous glint annoucing a particularly bad pun - the soft crinkles around the corners when they wordlessly remember a memory neither of them wants to share with the world; a faded scar that makes fingertips itching to smooth it. And recently, messy locks of hair, whether it be a recently-highlighted purple strip, or tousled & gelled to perfection. Their pupils too large when staring too long at each other in the ViewFinder on cameras that they record on. They’ve always been staring, and they don’t want to stop.

They kiss. At first it’s for fun, even when it’s not. They laugh about it - but they still do it whenever they get the chance, willfully letting it slide into a more serious territory: a quick kiss on the top of the head, messy hair tickling a nose; an affectionate smooch on a blushy cheek to embarass each-other - for the shits and giggles. The fleeting lips pressing against the other's skin, warm and _reckless_. A blink-and-you’ll-miss-it, accidentally-on-purpose kiss. There are lingering kisses and hurried ones, friendly smacks for laughs, & soft lips against the corner of a smile. They don’t know where this will take them, but what they know for sure, is that they’ll kiss _again_.

They love each other.

And, sometimes, _that's the only thing that matters._

* * *


End file.
